He needed passion more than understanding
No matter how he showed or said it
it remained doggedly unclear

She was in his head
What he wanted was to be in her body
To infuse her with his playful desire

To her love was romantic, a perfect ideal
For him passion was just a thin membrane away from complete fusion

She dreamt of a child
He yearned for intimacy
She envisioned them as parents and partners
He viewed the viscerally shared as the root of all meaning

She sought harmony, an unblemished life
A personal eden bereft of conflict
Her eternal goal was to be a still pond
No ripples to disturb its presentation

She sought beauty everywhere
In thought, word, sight, smell and touch
She found beauty everywhere
Yet, in her man, not so much

He thrived on life’s imperfections
Problems were challenges and opportunities
He loved the grit and the sweat
The joy of a challenge met

He saw intimacy as the measure of one’s life
Each new experience as a gift
Immersed in the rough and tumble of existence
Sharing with her was his bliss

In her relations:
Harmony over honesty
Ease over disease
Calm as endless balance

Beauty was the handmaiden of love
It was what made life attractive
Beauty is what drew her to others
To nature, art and the sacred

He wore each new wrinkle as a badge of honor
Sensed ardor often was born from the arduous
That one often had to provoke to be provocative
and wisdom was more about the real than the ideal

She sees life through the lens of love and beauty
He through the lens of history and experience
Beauty she fashioned into life’s ideal
Intimacy he saw as the measure of one’s life
Beauty became her life’s purpose and zeal
Intimacy was all he asked of life

Is there sufficient beauty in intimacy?
The fate of this love may be dependent on it